Seri was beautiful by candlelight.

Her skin, illuminated by the soft glow, as she leaned over the chess board. Her hair, blending into shadows, wayward curls reflecting the light. The curve of her neck. The way she bit her lip, twisting it under her teeth.

Brand idly played with a chess piece. He wondered what it would be like to touch her. Not just with his hands either. With his lips. To kiss her from her cheek down along the curve of her neck, to her throat.

“Brand?”

She was staring at him.

“Your move.”

Her dark eyes shone in the candlelight. She had such dangerous eyes. It made him want to blurt out all sorts of secrets. It made him want to lean over and kiss her full on the mouth. Not softly, either. He wanted to crush her body to his and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, until her knees gave out, and they were on the floor, tumbling together.

Brand swatted a piece off the board.

“Your turn,” he said.

* * *

It was all well and good to fantasize. But that fantasy was never going to happen. Four weeks since the truth spell, twenty-eight evening playing games in his private room. Every evening, Brand offered his arm to Seri, and every evening, she refused it, walking to the door alone. If he couldn’t get her to touch him, how on earth was he going to get her into bed?

He wasn’t. It was as simple as that.

He wanted her, but he wasn’t going to have her.

And that was fine. She was one girl. She would leave, and his lust would die once he stopped seeing her. He’d dealt with this before.

So Brand finished his illusion of her—which he hated, because he couldn’t seem to capture the quality that made Seri, Seri—and he ordered a dinner of her favorite foods, which he now knew, because he’d asked her. Quail and rice and chestnut stuffing, blueberry tarts and chocolate cake. And brandy, though she didn’t like to admit it. He thought about buying her a chess set as a gift, but he decided against it. She wouldn’t take it, and it would sit in a corner of his room, reminding him of her.

“What is all this?” Seri asked, when the desserts were brought out.

“It’s a special occasion,” Brand said. He’d dressed in his finest clothes, pressed and laundered, and had gotten his hair to stay in place. He wasn’t wearing any illusions. He’d stopped putting them on. She preferred his real face.

Seri helped herself to a slice of cake. “You know, my birthday isn’t for another two days.”

He jolted. “Your birthday?”

She nodded. “August 17^th. I’ll be eighteen.” She tilted her head. “But that’s not what this is about, is it?”

“No,” he said.

“So what is this for, then?” she asked, tapping her fork against the plate.

“Be sure to try a blueberry tart.”

“Brand.”

He sighed. “It’s been three months since I kidnapped you.”

Her face darkened. “We’re celebrating that?”

“We are celebrating what could be your last night here. And your birthday, I suppose, since I won’t be around to see it.”

He poured a glass of brandy for himself.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” she said.

“I am aware,” he said.

“And I’m not going to steal my family’s magic, either.”

“We will talk about what you will and won’t do later.”

“I’m not going to—”

“Later,” he said loudly. “We’re having dinner. Let’s enjoy it. Please.”

Seri said nothing, but she did not touch her chocolate cake. Brand looked down at his liquor and realized that he didn’t have much appetite, either. It was like celebrating a funeral. He put his cup down.

“All right.” He stood up. “Let’s adjoin to the private room then. Get this over with.”

He did not offer his arm. He knew she would not take it.

Brand walked over to his drink cabinet and poured two glasses of water. Most of the time, he came to bargain knowing what it was he wanted from each girl. But he didn’t know what he wanted from Seri.

He’d kidnapped her because her famous uncle might have helped with the massacre of his family. But he’d since learned that uncle was a recluse, hiding from the world. Punishing Seri for his supposed crimes seemed petty, at best. Seri’s family had no money and limited power. Even if they did have some magic stored away in the vault, he didn’t want that. He wanted her, but she’d never offer that.

Brand put the water glasses on the chessboard. Seri was still standing. One hand was holding onto the edge of the table, while her other arm wrapped around her stomach. She looked like she was bracing herself. She needn’t be so worried. He was in a generous mood.

“You want to go home, I take it,” Brand said.

“You know I do,” Seri replied.

He nodded. “I know you won’t sleep with me. I know you won’t steal. I know there’s a lot you won’t do, but I’m curious. What are you willing to do in order to go home?”

Seri looked him in the eye. “Nothing.”

He rolled his eye. She probably still thought he had sex on his mind. He did—but that wasn’t what he was asking.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, Seri, really I’m not. I want to know what you have to offer.”

“I’m not offering you anything.”

“Start with something small. You might be surprised—”

“You’re not listening, Brand. I’m not saying I have nothing to give you. I am saying, I am not going to bargain with you.”

He blinked.

“You don’t want to go home?”

“I do,” she said. “More than anything.”

“Then why—?”

“I’m not going to pay you a ransom. You kidnapped me. You threatened my life. You’ve done these things. I want you to break the curse and send me home, but not because I give you something. I want you to do it, because it is the right thing to do.”

He stared at her.

She stared right back.

He felt he should laugh. He felt he should rage. He felt he should throw on his grandfather’s face and shake the tables and remind her that she was a prisoner, his prisoner, and had no right to demand anything of him.

He took a step toward her. “What makes you think I would do this for you?”

Seri’s hand tightened around her stomach. She didn’t answer.

“Do you think I’m a good man?” Brand said.

“I think you’re capable of doing the right thing.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

She looked down.

“No,” she said at last. “Not particularly. But you could become one.”

Something in him snapped.

“I’m not going to change, Seri. Not for you, not for anyone. I am who I am, and my choices are my own. I act in accordance to my desires. Not what is expected of me, not what is lawful, not what is right. What I want.” He leaned over her. “Staking your body and your mind on me changing is a supremely foolish proposition. I suggest you re-think it.”

She looked up.

“I have thought about it. It is foolish. And I don’t expect you to change. But I don’t care. You can do what you want, Brand. You have done what you want, and in your head, you’ve justified it. But it is still wrong. I will come to dinner with you. I will play chess. I will answer your questions. But I will not sell my soul to make you feel better about yourself.”

She was breathing hard. He could see her chest rise and fall, and her cheeks were flushed. Brand realized his mouth was dry. He picked up his glass of water and took a sip. There were no thoughts in his head, nothing he thought he should say or do. If he had any strong emotions, he could not yet discern what they were.

“Well,” he said, after a long pause. “Since you’re going to be staying here… it seems I’ll have to get you a birthday present, after all.”